Corsair II
by Alex DeLyan
Summary: I've spent my life fixated on the trivial. The meaningless. But now my mind is free and I have time to focus on the important goals. For many years, I've been troubled by the thought those who plotted my murder are still at large... Sequel to Corsair.
1. Man Of War

Bradach

Man Of War

November, 1718

Slice, twirl, plunge. Those were the moves K-Way had taught me. And I was putting them to use on the deck of the Queen Anne's Revenge. Slicing the skin of a privateer, twirling into his eye, and plunging my rapier into his gut. An ocean of crimson spilled from him as he slumped to his death. Rain was pouring heavily down on us, Thatch struggling to fend off these hordes of Brits sent by Spotswood. Kenway too barely had four of their number on the ropes.

Tense winds blew as we battled the enemy fiercely, most of our lads hardly seen their twentieth before they had died that day. Parrying five of them, I sweeped one to the ground, dug my cutlass into his eyeball, dived a broadsword into another's stomach and split open a third head with my dagger. The remaining two wore terrified faces, one frozen, rooted to the spot on which he stood, the other fleeing into the waters below.

"Please, spare me!" He begged, as I pushed my flintlock against his fore

"Sorry." I said as I pulled the trigger, his brains spluttered against the deck in seconds. Most had called me a monster for my unrelenting nature these past months sailing under Blackbeard. But the truth is, the only thing that kept me going was the shimmer of gold at the end of a long and bloody raid. I had nothing to motivate me. Turned from a gentle, caring soul to a ruthless killing machine, I had truly hit rock bottom.

To take a life was child's play now. Remorse for my victims so far from my conscience. I'd lost count of the volume of blood I'd spilled during this past eleven months. But it was surely enough to fill rivers, if not oceans of the caribbean.

Reaching to help Kenway out, I buried my sword into his final attackers spine, not stopping until the hilt protruded from him, the blade almost catching Edward in the belly. "Thatch!" He cried as he gazed over at where Blackbeard was having some difficulty keeping himself alive. I'd have intervened, if I cared. And if I knew Thatch cared. Putting it plainly, Edward Thatch knew his time was up. He knew he'd outran the law long enough. And he wasn't the slightest bit bothered. By November twenty-first Blackbeard was all out of the will to live, knowing he could never sustain a peaceful retirement.

Kenway hurried headlong into the fray to help his friend, however it was too late. My captain, Edward 'Blackbeard' Thatch was dead. His head cleaved from his shoulders by a young rookie, no less. Observing the dismaying event, Kenway failed to note the soldier about to push him overboard. With a splash, Edward Kenway was in the water, swimming for his Jackdaw.

In a fit of rage, I pierced the soldier's throat and proceeded to run his comrade through with my cutlass, out of revenge for Thatch's execution. Strangely, I saw opportunity in this. With no leader to captain the Queen Anne's Revenge, what would become if it? Could I usurp Blackbeard's title as captain? Or would that be a stretch too traitorous?

Nevertheless, the deck was empty. I didn't have the interest to run the Queen Anne's Revenge. Or the time, or the patience. But I did spy a pretty looking frigate that sat empty too. Swinging from the abandoned vessel, I landed safely atop the quarterdeck. I took the helm, steering her through the worst of the storm. Luckily enough, I knew the seas like the back of my hand, able to navigate through the harsh climate steadily enough. Sailing her all the way to Nassau, taking ample opportunity to soak up the last days of the Pirate Confederacy, for New Providence's days as a haven for crooks were surely numbered.

I spent the voyage from North Carolina to The Bahamas thinking on how Anne was faring. She'd once touched my heart but recent times rendered us 'divorced' if we could ever be considered as married anyway. The last we spoke she was en route to Great Inagua to be with the growing community in Kenway's cove hideaway, and to escape her fathers prying spies. Numerous factors came into the disintegration of our relationship. The Sapphire, her affair with Rackham among other reasons.

* * *

Days passed at sea, a few sailors washed up on the beaches so I brought them aboard to help pilot my new vessel. Partway through the voyage, I awoke to loud, loud bells that rang in my ears one morning.

With a yawn, I stretched my arms and heaved myself out of the kingsized bed which I had found myself spending the past nights in. "Alright! Alright!" I yelled to no one in particular as the bells continued ringing out. Slipping into my sailing gear, I threw on the assassin garb and covered my ears. Hood over my head, I made my way out to the main deck.

Opposite us, aboard a barely floating brig, was a small contingent of English muskets, primed for the handful of crewmen who kneeled on the deck in surrender. "What are you doing!?" I yelped as I jumped up to the quarterdeck, walked the gunwale and handled the swivel, blasting several shots into the hold of the enemy.

I stepped back, my hand taking a gleaming cutlass and proffered it to a new lad, a frantic look upon his young face. While on the deck, some of my inexperienced crew had scattered, most having been shot by the British. "Get below decks and sink them!" I shouted down to the battle-weary men spread thin on my little frigate's lower deck.

Their intentions was to board us and reclaim the ship, something I both opposed and sought to prevent. Leaping onto their poop-deck with the help of a rope, I engraved my bullet on the forehead of an unwitting officer, his pals not far behind with my short-sword carved into their brains in the space of a few seconds. Observing the bloody mess I'd created on the wooden panels of the poop-deck, I moved down to the lower deck, engaging in a tense standoff with a muscular, grizzled veteran.

Fixing him with an icy, penetrating glare, I circled him, whispering threatening remarks in his ear. I could see the fear in his face as I told of my stories aboard the Sapphire and my days with the infamous Edward Thatch.

"He taught me everything I know," I lied, which went some way to extending my intimidation "you know, he once dismembered a man, limb from limb. Would you like me to do that here?" I spoke softly, the man in front of me who had once appeared so brave and bold now reduced to a quivering, shuddering wreck.

A few of the men from aboard my new ship had managed to overwhelm the number of soldiers who had captained HMS Pearl that day. At last, the shivering hulk of a guard who stood silent while I talked him through various torturous procedures replied.

"No.." He whimpered.

"Then leave this ship and politely take refuge in that there fishing boat." I commanded him, pointing out a small rowboat tied neatly, securely to the vessel. He nodded as he slowly inched up the quarterdeck with my pistol placed firmly on his spine. Beginning to cut the rowboat free of its bonds, with no hesitation, I moved the gun up his body, to his head and pulled the trigger.

I let out a frustrated burst of anger as I looked down to see my garb covered in a thick red river. His limp, lifeless body flopped overboard as he died. Turning, I faced four men gathered on the deck, a triumphant expression on their faces.

"We're sending this one back to Navassa." I declared, at which the crew rejoiced, small as their numbers were. "So is this all that's left?"

"Aye, sir." It was the young deckhand who took the cutlass earlier. I shot him an impressed look, at which he blushed and melted back into the trio of men who made up the remnants of my crew.

"Then we'll be happy to find some company in Nassau!" I exclaimed, gesturing to two survivors to come up to the deck. As they approached, I lowered my tone and said: "I want you two to sail for Navassa. Do you know where that is?" They nodded and immediately prepared to depart."If you are waylaid, or come under attack, forget the ship and make all haste for Nassau. Do you hear me?" They nodded, sizing up the wheel and inspecting the sails.

Whistling to my other two companions, I indicated the ropes, and swung from the deck of the brig onto the frigate. I still hadn't managed to fathom a name for her.

"You there boy, what be your name?" I asked the young deckhand who I'd encountered with the gleaming cutlass. "Me? M-my m- my name is Dennis, sir." He stuttered, struggling to find his own name.

"Dennis, do you know how to sail a ship?"

"No sir, I don't but I've always wanted to learn."


	2. Ultimatum

Bradach

Ultimatum

December 4th, 1718

Pistols fired, women danced and drunkards revelled as night fell in Nassau. Keeping myself to myself, I sat with my new best friend, Dennis, whom I'd been tutoring in the art of navigation. He showed promise, displaying talent with the capstan and sails. Sipping ales, my mind was full of Anne, what she was doing at that very moment, and if she thought of me as often as I thought of her.

The Old Avery was brimming tonight, same as every other night in the capital of debauchery, although I'd seen it filled ten times as much over the years. Suddenly, I felt a hand slap me on the shoulder.

"Haha! Fancy seeing you here!" A voice from behind me bawled. I turned to see it was Kulé, a Tobagonian slave I'd freed many years before. In fact, I recollect it was my first ever raid on a plantation.

"Kulé!" I exclaimed, registering his face and wrapping my arms round him to give him a bear hug. "What have you been getting up to?" I added, curious to know what he'd be doing in Nassau.

"I've been trying to make a go of it," he replied, and I knew exactly what he meant "caught me a few nice prizes down by Havana." When I cut him free of his chains all those years back, I never intended for him, or any of his family, to get involved in my world. It was far too dangerous. If I had, we'd have took him aboard to join our crew. He could see the disappointment in my eyes, as much as I tried to hide it.

"So, where are you moving onto next?" I asked, completely uninterested in what he was doing with his life, yet praying he'd tell me he was going home to quit his life at sea.

"Got meself a nice trip up North planned."

"I see." I couldn't stop myself from sounding disheartened as I listened to his news. "Well I'd love to stay and chat, but I must get on." I continued, tapping my new first mate on the shoulder to signal him out of this place. Dennis rose to his feet. We bowed our tricornes politely, and left the tavern, headed for the comfort of our lodgings aboard what I'd named The Lorina. Ah yes, the Lorina. Cozy and lithe, she could pull through any storm and whatever else Mother Nature could throw at us during our voyages.

Climbing the gangway up to my vessel, I gazed around Nassau one last time. My men mightn't have known it yet, but this was the final visit we'd ever make to New Providence, I promised myself that. Overrun with soldiers. It was no place to call home anymore, not with those who laboured to make it great now torn apart, allegiances divided and loyalties split. Thatch was dead, Hornigold had defected and Read was too wrapped up with her fantasies to seek peace.

Fantasies. To think I once called myself an assassin, now looking down on their philosophy. Was it me or them who had changed? Had I became a soulless, remorseless killer? Were _they_ somehow to blame? For changing tactics? It was indeed myself who should answer for abandoning my ideology. Perhaps, if I'd have stuck to my beliefs, to the principles that had shaped my life here in the West Indies, I'd have the will to go on. The will to fight for my cause. Alas, there was no hope left in me now. All I was, was a man who had cheated death one too many times. A walking corpse, one who murdered and plundered for the sheer joy of it.

Passing through into the captains cabin, I bade Dennis give me some privacy while I dressed into my nightwear. I stared at my assassins robes I still wore, despite having given up on their order. I felt I lost the right to use them after leaving to sail aboard The Queen Anne's Revenge in March. That was practically the last straw. The act that sealed the deal on my departure from the Assassin Order.

Slowly I took off the garb and changed into my evening clothes, pulling on a thermal nightshirt and long-johns. It had been a long week, one I'd spent celebrating the remaining days of Nassau and it's reputation as a safe zone for me and my ilk. I may no longer be an assassin, but I'd always be a pirate and Nassau would forever be a home to me, even if it was a home I'd never be able to return to.

Adjusting my nightgown, I ventured out onto the deck, to find Dennis gazing into the abyss, appearing deep in thought. "We'll leave tomorrow," I announced, walking closer to him "I'd like to make this a short affair. Don't want to linger any longer than I already have to." I added, standing myself next to him, copying his thoughtful position.

"Aye, sir." He said at last, snapping out of his reverie and swiftly, tiredly, carried himself belowdecks for his sleep, leaving me on the deck in my robe, shivering and quivering, listening to the distant chatter and natter of the townsfolk of Nassau. Soon they would be flushed out from the home they had worked so hard, _too _hard to build. I retired to my chambers, sleepy and restless. Dragging my feet across the floor of the deck, I flung open the door, and made my way round the table, upon which lay a map, and climbed into my bed.

* * *

Thus, I woke early the following morning, a figure in front of me. A figure I recognised as Edward Kenway, hands fixed on hips, looking down quizzically at me. "What are you doing here, Kenway?" I asked him, rubbing my eyes as I touched the wooden panels with my feet.

"I've got some grave news, lad." He said, sitting down beside me. All sorts ran through my mind, upleasent visions and sights I'd rather forget. Images of Anne laying dead on the sandy shores of Great Inagua. Shaking my head of those thoughts, I questioned him about it.

"What? What is it?"

"It's time." He said regretfully, sadness in his tone "Time we were gone from Nassau." I knew that already, it wasn't a surprise to me.

"Aye." I replied, the realisation of the fact I'd be going away, never to come back hitting me like a hurricane. Kenway moved back to leave the room, but I grabbed his hand quickly, asking: "Is there no other option?"

"You could take the pardon, but call yourself my enemy."

I had absolutely no intention of bowing to the king, nothing but the clothes I stood in. Nassau may no longer be an Eden for criminals but that didn't mean the rest of the oceans weren't. "Dennis!" I called, strutting out onto the deck, now fully dressed in the gear that had supported my life the last eight years.

My new friend trotted out from below decks, eager to fulfil his duties as first mate. He raised his hand in salute, which I asked him not to do several times before, but it didn't look like he'd stop anytime soon.

"Yes, captain?"

"Assemble the men, we're going."

"Aye, sir." He trundled back down the steps to wake his companions. Now, I had a twelve-strong crew of battle-hungry pirates, ready to follow my orders at a moments notice. While the small contingent of deckhands and sailors got to work, rigging the masts and scrubbing the woods, I handled the wheel, casting off for a little wander until we snapped a worthy prize.


	3. Together Again

Bradach

Together Again

January 12th, 1719, Great Inagua

Fifteen men served under me now, we'd taken three off a crashed wreckage in the middle of the ocean. But never mind the numbers and figures of my growing crew. I've finally arrived in Great Inagua, where I awaited an awkward reunion with my former wife and her current lover, Rackham. But it wasn't Anne who had brought me all the way here from Nassau. It was the Assassins. They motivated me, and I'd came to apologise for my wayward behaviour recently. Hoped they'd let me back into their fold.

The Lorina had remained unscathed during the voyage, and very few barnacles had clustered to her. I knew we'd be stationed in this cove for some time, so I'd accepted an invitation to rest at the mansion, where I could reach Kenway, if ever needed. I was yet to come across Anne though. Due to mutual interest, I kept out of her way, avoiding her for a week, but soon we would cross paths and I couldn't delay much longer. There were more pressing issues facing the Assassins Guild. Some very pressing issues indeed. In fact, some very pressing issues which I wanted to help solve.

One day, Edward came to my apartments inside the mansion, asking for my assistance in a matter. I was folding my garb when he knocked on my door. "Come in." I answered to him, at which he gently pushed open the wooden door and entered the room. Sunlight poured through the wide window pane, illuminating the room.

"I've got a task for you, lad." He said softly, sitting down on my bed.

"Go on." I responded, continuing my chores.

"There's uh, been a tipoff about the Sage's whereabouts."

"Yes..." I urged him to resume his dialogue, stopping my own actions to listen to his words properly.

"My point is, I'm taking a crew out to Príncipe to find him," he bit into a juicy, red apple "so, I'm asking you, as a friend, would you join me on the voyage?"

"'Course I will. Gimme a day, and I'll be ready." I retorted.

"Good. I'm setting off at the end of the week, be prepared." Then he took leave of my chambers, and I eagerly stowed mountains of clothes, food and provisions into my saddlebags. Hours flicked by, and I was summoned down to the bar to drink the night away, my crewmen begging me to come and engage in their inebriated behaviour. But, as I got closer to the watering hole, I saw the scantly-clad figure of Anne Bonny. My heart stopped, my mouth went dry and my stomach stirred as our gazes met. Her flaming red hair and perfect complexion made her the envy of every woman in the West Indies, and entranced me for a moment I yearn to relive even now.

"Seth!" She gasped, as she recognised my face as her that of her estranged husband.

"Anne!" I shouted, my excitement taking control of my tone. Then, very unexpectedly, she wrapped her arms around me, hugging me like she'd never hugged anyone before. But, we had parted on bad terms, yet now she embraced me like a long-lost friend. In a way, I _was_ a long-lost friend. I was a long-lost, missed, estranged husband. "What about Rackham?" I queried her confusedly.

"Sod Rackham, the man's piss drunk half the time anyway," said Anne, shocking me. I thought she liked him._ Clearly not as much as she liked me_ I thought to myself, smugly. "nah, that's no decent man to call husband."

"And, what of the bounty?"

"Have you not seen it? Me Daddy's baying for Rackham's blood and everyone else 'round here. Made himself a nice deal with the Governor." So it was true then, William Cormac had struck a bargain with Spotswood.

"But the bounty didn't put Jack off?"

"Not at all, in fact, it made him more determined to stay with me," she sighed in exasperation "but he's nothing compared to you. Goes without saying the sparks gone from our... relationship."

"What of Mr. Jack Bonny then?" I quizzed her, thinking fondly of her bumbling idiot of a legal husband.

"Oh he's long gone. Packed up last summer."

An awkward silence ensued for a brief few seconds, and we both knew how this conversation would end. She grabbed my black hair and pulled at it roughly, pressing her lips against mine and we shared a passionate, blissful kiss. Before the hour was out, we were back onboard The Lorina, undisturbed and in the privacy of an empty vessel, making love like tigers. So ferocious was my partners burning desire (and that of my own) that the ship began to sway and rock.

Time shot by and we would soon have to be back at the mansion. Numerous things came over my mind after we had finished up. For one, I wasn't going to have some steamy love affair behind a friends back, no matter how much of a prick said friend was. I wanted to be open with my fellow assassins, not hiding our involvement with secret rendezvouses and discreetly placed notes for each other.

I clambered off the bed with a roll, hitting the wooden floor beneath us while Anne lay exhausted in the bed. Wearing nothing, literally nothing, I pulled on my underwear, advising Anne to do the same. The master bedroom which we found ourselves in was poorly lit and so I sat down on the crimson duvet, which had now become somewhat stained with my off-white liquids. Lighting a match, I whispered to the redhead in bed with me, urging her to get up and dressed soon.

I held the match over the candle, touching the wick for a second or two, and resumed dressing into my gear. While Anne finally dragged herself out of bed, I slipped into my trousers, brought my undershirt over my head onto my body, added the overshirt and equipped the bronze jacket that consisted of my assassin gear. Fastening my trusty rapier hilt to the holster, I continued to nag on at Anne to move quicker if we wanted to make an unsuspicious entrance to the banquet Mary Read had planned.

Personally, I didn't want our friends to discover our liaison from an awkward, late reunion, coming in one behind the other to the dinner hall. So I decided to leave quickly, to avoid raising the eyebrows of nosy housewives with nothing better to do than idly gossip while their

partners were out on the high seas struggling to provide for them. It was with regret I left Anne alone, but it was a necessary precaution.

Glancing around the busy port, I checked no one of notable importance had seen me leave my frigate, and set off in the direction of the manor, hungry belly, but my dry spell now a thing of the past with Anne there to sate my appetite for a woman's touch. Not that that was all I saw in her. She was more than someone to call on for a roll in the hay. Much more.

Ah Tabai stood proud atop the steps to welcome me, having taken a visit off from the secret lair in Tulum which had now been almost completely desecrated by the Templars. "Hello, brother." He boomed in his deep voice that instilled a sense of pride in every assassin.

"Hello, master." I replied gracefully, and tilted my head in respect. The grizzled warrior led me inside the manor, where Kenway, Read, Vane and Rackham were sat around a table. I took my seat at the table, two empty chairs opposite me. One for Anne, the other for Ah Tabai. Adéwale was talking quietly with a deckhand in the corridor. Minutes later, Anne made an appearance, apologising for the delay and we acted as though we hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.

"Right, let's get underway." Kenway declared, sitting at the head of the table. "We're here tonight to discuss plans for capturing The Sage." Ah Tabai sighed his bemused surprise K-Way was still fixating on this elusive observatory. Skimming over the awkward interruption, Edward continued "we're close to locating a ship, a ship of the Royal African Company."

"Which will help us find the Sage?" A voice from the other end of the table asked. It was Anne.

"Aye, lass. Which, in turn, will put us one step closer to the Observatory," he confirmed "O'Hara and Vane are up for it. Who else is with me?"

An eerie silence fell over the room. I exchanged curious glances with Charles, who looked murderous. "Well, if we're alone on our glorious quest, I'll be getting me sleep." Vane said sardonically in his bristolian accent. He stood to his feet and left the hall, and I felt obliged to do the same, but said and did nothing just yet. Kenway looked disappointed in our associates, who turned their faces away from him in shame.

"S'pose I could always tag along." Rackham suggested in a slightly hungover manner, scratching his head. Edward nodded, pulling himself out of the chair at the head of the table and storming off, probably in search of Charles. The mist of awkward silence descended upon the mansion again, the remaining pirates who seemed glued to their seats at one point, now scurried out of the hall as fast as they could.


	4. Coming Clean

Bradach

Coming Clean

15th January 1719, Great Inagua

"How's the preparations coming along?" Kenway asked me. It was a hazy afternoon, the sun setting on the horizon in the cove. A mere two days until we departed on our hunt for the Sage, who would ultimately lead us to the observatory, if all went well.

"Fine Eddie, just fine." I smirked, patting the younger man on the head, who responded with a fierce scowl. "Come on, mate." I protested, alienated by his cold expression. Not answering me, he continued on, leaving me to load my things onto the hold of the Jackdaw. I chose to pack early, having packed late too many times before. Since the meeting in the mansion, me and Anne had decided to reveal the news of our relationship before I left with Kenway and Vane. So that evening, when everyone was gathered in the mansion, we'd divulge the secret of our affair.

I carried on tossing the heavy crates I'd need for the voyage onto the hold, a line of us assembled to pass the cargo from man to man, a bulky fella who reminded me of Big Toby at the end, ready to position them fittingly. For a moment, I wondered what had become of my old friend, Toby. When the Sapphire capsized, I presumed him dead, like most of my crew, but he was a strong swimmer, definitely capable of lunging up to the surface with his weight and physique.

Shaking every thought of my old life from my mind, I noticed a sparrow bolt through the air, bound for the mansion. I recognised it as one of Adéwale's fleet of birds dispatched around the caribbean. Strange that the Assassins would still use carriers when messaging via courier had become far more popular. Still, couriers weren't to be trusted with the secrets of the order.

"That's the last of them!" A voice called from the docks outside. I wiped the sweat from my brow, fatigued by the strenuous activity. "Off to the manor!" The voice added. About a dozen sailors quickly flocked in the direction of the mansion, also tired from the hard days work. My feet carried me all the way up to the mansor, where dinner was already being cooked up. The scent of freshly picked apples and oranges hung tangibly in the air, filling the walkways and corridors with a pleasant smell for all to take in as they passed.

Just as well our food was being conjured up by the cooks, as my belly had started to rumble upon entering the large, grand building. Kenway was nowhere to be found in the manor, so I assumed he had took a stroll through the small town, or perhaps wandered off to see his friends down by the port in the tavern.

Bringing my hand down on the long, oak table, I sweeped up a pile of dust, grimacing at the very sight of the stuff. I sat down on the brown, rickety chair. One lucky devil was already tucking into his meal, making every spoonful count. Slowly, I saw a young maid in her late teens approach the table, and looked up to see she carried my requested dinner, heavily salted beef with spices, ginger and other assorted seasonings and flavours draped over my cheddar cheese, straight from the larder.

"Mmm, thanks-"

"Anaya, my name is Anaya." The young servant interrupted me, but saved me the embarrassment of asking for her name. I dug into my food, too hungry to waste time using utensils like some Cotter boy. Though I felt like an animal, no one was offended. We were all crooks round this table. Each and every one of us. And assassins, too. Our only moral to safeguard the interests of humanity.

Brushing aside the philosophy, I savoured every second I spent with this dish, craving the taste of it. Suddenly, Edward and Vane appeared by the doorframe, standing like they meant business. Charles looked down at me through narrowed eyes, while Kenway studied me. I felt very... exposed all of a sudden. Like I was being eyed up to see how good a meal I'd make. It made me feel uncomfortable, uneasy. So I rushed to my feet, as they neared closer to me.

"Listen lad," Kenway started "we've been hearin' word," he added cryptically.

"And?" I asked, settling back into my seat, resuming the session of orgasmic pleasure, but thinking on what exactly they'd been hearing. Swapping glances with each other, Vane continued the conversation for Edward.

"Word that you and uh, Mrs Bonny have been gettin' a bit cozy up in yer' frigate." My jaw dropped, an obvious indication of the gossips truth. "I take that as a yes then?" He added, a grin forming on his lips.

"Yeah, it's true." I confirmed, playing it down. "What? It's not like her and Rackham were anything solid." I pointed out, wiping my chin, furious with whoever had told them of our dalliance. With whoever _saw_ our dalliance.

"I'm just surprised by your boldness." Kenway remarked. "But your right, he's not fit to call himself sober."

"Best we just get this over with. Patch over it and make ready for our departure." Vane suggested sensibly, hardly a hint of his thick accent in his tone. To be honest, I couldn't quite fathom what had made Charles act in this manner. Perhaps it was old age, wisdom creeping into his piratical spirit.

* * *

Within an hour, the room was flooded with starving sailors and all my assassin brethren were clustered around the buffet of delicious delicacies. The only exception being Ah Tabai, who had since returned to Tulum to carry out his business as Mentor there. Edward and Charles, who apart from me and Anne, were the only ones to know of our affair, shot me oddly jealous looks, and envious glares, slicing through their pork like savages. But I wasn't surprised, they were right to envy me. Soon, I'd be in bed with the most beautiful woman on the island and they'd have to make do with a wench from the nearest tavern.

Even sooner, we'd be declaring our reignited love for each other to our fellow assassins. Which would undoubtedly irritate Rackham to the point of explosion. If he wasn't already off his face with the latest dodgy narcotics being flogged on the black market. Mary Read, clad in her cunning disguise, gave her mouth a break by filling her face with a meaty steak, while opposite me at the end of the table, Anne nervously nibbled at a piece of cheese like a mouse. I gestured over to her, signalling her to stand up as I did too. She obeyed, rising slowly to her feet.

"Ahem," I bellowed, clearing my throat, "listen lads, me and Annie here have got something we wanna share with ya's all." I added, but by the looks on their faces, they could already tell we had rekindled our relationship.

"Me and O'Hara 'ere 'ave decided to make a go of it this time." She spat, skipping the formal, minutes long speech I was improvising in my head. Some reacted with shock, others with disapproving tits and a handful of them shook their heads. Overall, it wasn't a very welcoming reception. Many of the sailors liked and respected Rackham, mainly because of his jokes that were mostly stolen from his fallen comrades and his witty humour that had charmed Anne from me in the first place.

"How'd ya think they took it?" Anne queried, a nervous expression upon her face, as we stood in the doorway, some feet away from the table.

"Honestly, their opinion don't matter to me, but then again they'll be more inclined to leave my service and take Jack's side in this drama."

"Your probably right. We might have to make some inquiries, see about recruiting a few lads for the ship."


	5. A Mutiny Too Far

Bradach

A Mutiny Too Far

29th January 1719, West Indies Sea

Twelve days at sea, scopes and spyglasses peeled for a slave-ship, crewed by workers for the Royal African Company. A few schooners had been foolish enough to skirt too close to our waters, and they were now resting at the bottom of the seabed, hold emptied. Rackham had been carrying on strange. Stranger than average, he hadn't drank in two days. I was getting worried, not that the others noted his odd behaviour. He'd been meeting with some of the men, plotting or scheming something. I planned to put a stop to it. I had my own eyes and ears aboard the Ranger, just as he had his.

Early in the morning, I creeped out of my hammock belowdecks and snook round the ship, most of my friends too deep in their cups to recollect my stealth or sleeping in their own hammocks. The wood of the ballast was rotten, as I gently placed a finger on the wall to support my slow, careful gait. Just down a hallway, decorated with the mutilated body parts of Vane's enemies, was Rackham's chamber. I decided he should definitely be in there, almost dead from drink.

The floorboards creaked slightly as I moved, bringing my left foot in front of my right. I paced a step quicker, my heart pounding in case Charles arose from his snooze to find me lurking like an alley cat near about his chambers. Oh I made for a suspicious spectacle alright, thinking the movement of every muscle in my body with deadly accuracy and precision. Thus far, I was doing okay. Only a couple of inches from my quarry.

A startling cough emanated from inside Vane's quarters, and I leapt out of my skin, jumping at least a foot high into the air, and kicking myself, dreading the noise I'd make as I returned to the floor. Quickly, I sprinted across the corridor and, avoiding a slip onto the dirty, timeworn black carpet, subtly pushed Rackham's oak door, causing my rival to wince in his sleep. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, not wanting to make any more loudness than I already had done. Closing the door as discreetly as possible, I glared down at the man slumped in the linen bed, snoring softly, the only indication he hadn't passed in his sleep.

Then, tiptoeing over to a fine, mahogany desk, I saw a locked tray. How I longed for the key to it. "Damn!" I exclaimed, too frustrated to hide my irritation from the room and it's occupant. Cautiously, I motioned over to a cabin, where I predicted the key to the desk was located. Pulling it open, I saw a silver key wrapped in a light brown cloth, and took it as the key to the desk, presumably where he kept some form of journal.

Still, he slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the man rummaging through his belongings. I walked back over to the desk, and inserted the key into the lock, to find it matched. Turning it, I pulled back the trays to reveal a sheaf of parchment, beneath all the scrolls of vellum and writings, I found a small, black diary. "Yes!" I beamed to myself, careful not to be too loud.

"Ugh?" A grunt from the bed came, and my heart skipped a beat as my mind panicked and ran through all kinds of different plans to hide the predicament I found myself in. Grabbing the handful of paper, I stowed them in my shirt pocket, making good my escape from the room, Rackham was becoming considerably more aware of his surroundings, and started to make sense of his environment, narrowly missing me.

I sprinted down the corridor so fast it caused a noise that could be heard from the poop-deck. As I reached my hammock, I laid down the paper and threw the diary with them, catching my breath as I panted wildly. Once I had composed myself, I opened my chest and secured the items, locking the chest behind me. All around me were hungover, passed out or dead sailors, placed hanging in their hammocks or just left to rot on the floor below. By midday, we were in full swing, following Kenway, who was leading the chase for this slave ship. And Rackham still hadn't noticed the abscence of his secret documents, which I was now having a read through.

Although I felt as though I was skipping my duties, it was quite something to hear of his plans for the Jackdaw. 'Termination of leadership and instalment of a worthy captain' was a particularly worrying verse that I intended to hand on to Kenway and Vane as soon as humanly possible.

"You bastard!" Rackham yelled as he rushed belowdecks, sword in hand. Before I had time to react, he was dashing over to me, blade primed for my throat. I grabbed his hand, narrowly avoiding the edge of his cutlass and throwing him back in to the wall with a thud. "Ow!" He exclaimed.

"What are you rambling on about?!" I screeched, pretending I had no idea why he had suddenly attacked me.

"Oh, Seth you know full well!" He lunged at me again, and again I twisted his arm and sent him crashing down to the floor. I heard half a dozen feet come running down the steps, separating me from Jack in the space of a few seconds.

"That's enough o' you two!" Vane shouted at the both of us, and confiscated Rackham's favoured cutlass, causing him to moan in anger.

I couldn't help but give him a scowl as he was took up above decks to assist pilot the ship. The four deckhands who had brought me away from Rackham quickly sat me down in my assigned hammock, while I fought above their voices to try and tell Charles of the diary his mate had been keeping. Not that he'd listened to me. If he had, well he wouldn't be where he got to.

* * *

The noon sun rose, and I heard voices frantically yelp about the discovery of The Royal African Pearl, one of the slave ships we'd need to help find the Sage. "All hands aft! Lay aboard!" I heard Charles shout out commands to the pirates and sailors scrambling about the deck. I couldn't believe they were still holding me down here, with the decaying wood of the ship surrounding me, and from above the road of cannons reverberated in my ears, almost deafening.

Finally, I saw a hardened veteran, about the age of forty-five summon me up on the demands of Charles Vane. Music to my ears, a nice change from deathly noise and cracking reports of canon fire. "O'Hara!" I heard a crewman scream, and saw at least seven bodies strewn across the deck of the Ranger. Blood was flooding the deck, and seeping down belowdecks. I surveyed the scene, and selected a station, replacing its unfortunate previous worker. I loaded the canon, and lit the fuse, primed for the broadside of our enemy.

A hole blasted into the Pearl with an almighty bang, and I repeated the actions until our leaders had battled them into submission. I wiped my brow, exhausted from my fifteen minutes under enormous pressure and swamped with crimson stains all over my jacket. I grimaced at the sight of my shirt, which was now saturated with blood. Kenway had ventured aboard with Vane, to discuss the whereabouts of The Princess, the ship the Sage was rumoured to be working on.

The Ranger had now been all but abandoned, and I was aboard the Jackdaw, to discuss events with a few of my friends there. We were sitting on the quarterdeck, playing cards with a flagon of rum at our sides. Then that's when I noticed it. He was get hearing a small number of the fools from The Ranger, assembling them together to hear his grand plan. "That's enough Rackham!" I screamed down at him, holding the rail of the port-side.

"Look what we have 'ere, then!" He retorted. "We was just talkin' over a change in leadership is all, Mr. O'Hara." Rackham added.

"I'll have no part in this mutiny, John!"

"And what of your mates, eh?"

"I can't speak for my companions. But I can't stand for this!" I exclaimed, and leaped over the quarterdeck, my rapier sharpened to precision, and determined to kill him today.

"Arrghhhhh!" He bawled in agony as I pressed the blade into his shoulder. His accomplices circled me, their own blades sharp and pistols loaded. I drew blood, however slightly, but it would result in my death if I couldn't escape quickly. The three men who had played cards with me on the quarterdeck had vanished, and I thought I should join them if I cared for my life.

"Get him, lads!" Rackham barked, as one of his lackeys held a towel to his injuries. Within moments a band of traitors had turned on me, brandishing their weapons at me. Slowly, I had been backed against the portside railings, where I would make my daring escape. I brought my finger to my nose, and held my breath. With a gentle push, I clambered overboard and plunged deep into the depths of the ocean, a hailstorm of bullets following me, though none hit their target. Just some distance away, was an island. An island that looked rich with wildlife. Once again, I had been marooned. This wouldn't be like last time though, somehow I knew. I knew I wouldn't be alone. This time, I'd have Kenway and Vane joining me...


End file.
